Edward Lee - Vampire Lodge

Count Volkov, it read. A Self-Portrait.

And painted in the corner, sure enough, was The Count’s signature, proving that he was the artist.

Then the lightning cracked again, and Kevin’s eyes flicked quickly upward to look at the painting itself, and—

His jaw dropped.

—and in the brief flash of lightning, the painting of The Count looked right back at him…

It was the scariest painting he’d ever seen in his life. In dark, creepy colors, there he was—The Count. The painting looked so real, it almost seemed as though Count Volkov were standing before him in the flesh.

The Count’s face was long and thin—and so pale it was white. He was bald, and the collar of his great black cape was turned up, connected by a big brass button with a fancy V embossed on it. V, Kevin thought. For Volkov. And hanging just under the button, from a chain about The Count’s neck, was a pendant of gold, a pendant of a hideous vampire bat with outstretched wings…

Kevin’s stomach quivered as he examined the painting more thoroughly, and when the lightning flashed again, he took closer note of The Count’s face:

The whites of Count Volkov’s eyes were bloodshot, with pupils so black they looked like holes. The mouth, turned up into a sinister smile, was opened just enough that Kevin could see the two long needlelike fangs…

Kevin turned away. Count Volkov’s self-portrait was more frightening than any of the vampires he’d seen in the movies. It was so chilling, in fact, that he forced himself to turn away, because he knew that if he looked at it any longer, he’d have nightmares of The Count’s fangs and terrible white face for a long time to come.

Get out of here, he told himself, shivering.

But he couldn’t leave yet, could he? There was still one more painting he needed to look at…

The second painting was smaller, more like the others that hung in the lodge, and with a similarly carved, antique frame. Kevin waited for another lightning flash, and when it came, he read the second painting’s title:

The Count, Standing on the Balcony of his Room.

And another lightning flash—

All the breath seemed to seize in Kevin’s chest once he got a full glimpse of the second painting. It was a painting of the back of the lodge, at night, with a full, yellow moon hanging just over the peak of the lodge’s roof, and there, on a second-floor balcony, at the far corner of the lodge, Count Volkov stood in his great black cape, looking out into the night…

Suddenly, all Kevin could do was stare at the picture. The depiction of The Count was frightening enough—yes—but that wasn’t what scared Kevin the most—

In his mind, he recited the painting’s chilling title: The Count, Standing on the Balcony of his Room.

And then he thought further: His room. The Count’s room. The second-floor balcony at the far end of the lodge…

Then he realized:

Count Volkov’s room, and Kevin’s room, were the same.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The lightning, now, flashed along with Kevin’s terror. Bug-eyed, and still staring at the ghastly painting, he backed away. His heart raced, his breath grew thin, and now his hands were shaking uncontrollably. I’m staying in the same room that used to be Count Volkov’s, his thoughts pounded in dread. The very same room!

Kevin knew he had to get out of his aunt’s bedroom now—he’d been here too long already, and staying another minute would just be too risky. But in leaving, that left him with a big problem:

Where do I go now?

Eventually, he knew he’d have to go back to bed, but now that he knew that his bedroom was once Count Volkov’s room—he didn’t know if he could do it. How could he sleep, knowing that he was sleeping in the same room that was once inhabited by a vampire?

But he knew he had no choice…

He finally backed out of Aunt Carolyn’s room, the storm still pounding, the lightning still flashing along with its crackling, thunderous sound. Back out in the hallway then, he began to close the door but before he could push it shut completely—

—a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Kevin!” a voice caught him from behind. “What on earth are you doing?”

Kevin’s heart suddenly felt like a bomb that had just exploded in his chest. He turned, in newfound terror, at the sharp, angry voice and the touch of the hand that suddenly had landed on his shoulder—

To face Aunt Carolyn!

At once a softly glowing light was on his face. Aunt Carolyn was holding up a lantern—the same kind of lantern, Kevin noted, that Bill Bitner had been holding in the back hallway this morning—and what Kevin immediately noticed was that Aunt Carolyn wasn’t dressed in a nightgown but was wearing one of the same long, tight black dresses that she always wore. She looked scoldingly at him, her dark eyes narrowed, and the look on her face was clearly one of irritation.

“Young man,” she said. “It’s not nice to go into people’s bedrooms without their permission. I’m surprised that you would do such a thing. Now I want to know what you were doing in there, and I want to know right now.”

Kevin, all trembles now, could only stutter in reply, “I, I, I, uh, was looking for you.”

“Looking for me? What for?”

“I, I—” and suddenly Kevin could think of nothing to say in the way of an answer.

Aunt Carolyn’s angry face glared down in the lantern light— a long, thin, pale face, Kevin noticed. Like Count Volkov’s face, like a vampire’s face! But then, just as suddenly, that same anger drifted off, and at once, Aunt Carolyn’s voice softened. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said consolingly. “You poor thing. Of course, you must’ve been frightened by the storm, is that it?”

“Uh, yes,” Kevin stammered back. “The storm, it woke me up and, uh, I got scared.”

“Well, you needn’t worry, because I was just downstairs listening to the weather report on the radio, and they said the storm will be over soon. So there’s nothing to worry about, see?”

“Uh, yes,” Kevin bumbled.

“It’s very late,” Aunt Carolyn went on. “You get back to bed now. Hopefully, the weather will be good enough tomorrow for you and Jimmy to fly your kites.”

“Uh, yeah, Aunt Carolyn, that would be great,” Kevin managed to say. “Well, I’m going back to bed now. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Kevin.”

Boy, did I luck out there, Kevin thought, walking down the darkened hall toward his bedroom. She thought I was scared of the storm. What a joke! After all the things he’d seen tonight, and all the things he’d discovered, a lightning storm was the last thing he’d be scared of!

When he got back to his bedroom, Jimmy was still fast sleep. Kevin got into his own bed and lay back under the heavy covers, his mind still spinning with thoughts…

Yes, Aunt Carolyn was definitely a vampire, she had to be. Up at this hour, still in her long black dress. Never eating anything and never going out into the sun. And no bed in her bedroom. There could be no doubt—

She’s a vampire, all right, he realized. But what am I going to do about it?

What could he do?

Well… nothing, he concluded, at least not until their fathers got back from fishing. And what had her excuse been, for being up so late herself?

Listening to the weather report on the radio, he remembered. What a bunch of malarkey!

Kevin felt exhausted and he tried to fall asleep but again the fact returned to his mind, and so did his fearful recollection of the second painting he’d seen in his aunt’s room. Count Volkov used to live in this same room , he thought. This used to be a vampire’s room. How can I expect to fall asleep, knowing that Count Volkov himself used to think and walk and breathe in this same room?